Declassified
by scgirl-317
Summary: Post 5.06, "Deal," of Law&Order:UK. In the aftermath of the shooting, Matt faces revealing his biggest secret to Ronnie and Alesha and the ramifications of this new knowledge.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Declassified

Author: scgirl_317

Summary: Post 5.06, "Deal," of _Law__&__Order:__UK_. In the aftermath of the shooting, Matt faces revealing his biggest secret to Ronnie and Alesha and the ramifications of this new knowledge.

Author's Note: I've been tossing around ideas of writing a _L&O:__UK_/_Highlander_ crossover for a little while. I saw the season finale, and I suddenly had it. I decided to sprinkle a little _Horatio__ Hornblower_ into the _Highlander _thread as homage to the work that introduced me to Jamie Bamber.

A/N2: I am a Yank with a fondness for British TV, but I'm still a Yank. Please forgive any missteps in vernacular.

A/N3: This is relatively short compared to some of my recent multi-chapter fics. There will only be three chapters, but I feel like this story went where I wanted it to, and it would be wrong to try to drag it out longer just for the sake of length. So I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>Alesha froze as the shots rang out. Matt fell to the ground, the red stain on his chest spreading as the life seeped out of him. Ronnie pressed his coat to Matt's chest to stem the blood flow, but to no avail. The color was swiftly draining from the young man's face.<p>

Alesha crawled across the pavement to where Matt lay. Tears blurred her vision as she clutched his hand tightly in both of her own.

"Stay with us, Matt," she ordered, her voice cracking. "Don't you dare die on us."

Matt managed a weak smile, but black fingers were beginning to creep in his field of vision.

"Stay with us," Alesha continued frantically. "We need you. _I_ need you. I love you, Matt."

Matt coughed, blood staining his lips red in contrast to his pale skin. He turned his head towards Alesha and he smiled.

"I love you, too," he breathed.

And then he breathed his last.

Alesha broke into sobs, clutching him tightly. Ronnie let his own tears fall, unable to believe his young partner was dead. There had to be some mistake. Matt had too much life to be dead, too much spirit, too much heart.

The sirens were drawing near when movement below them drew their attention. Their confusion at seeing the color return to Matt's face was only compounded when he opened his eyes.

"Oh, bugger," he said, taking in his friends' faces. He grimaced and pushed them back enough so that he could sit up.

"Matt, you just died," Ronnie said.

"Matt, what's going on?" Alesha asked, shocked as he got to his feet.

Matt leveled his gaze at the two of them, "I promise I'll explain later, but right now, I need what just happened to stay between us."

"You had a bullet-proof vest on," Ronnie shrugged, willing to say whatever Matt asked.

"What about the blood?" Alesha asked, scrambling to mentally catch up with the other two.

"Synthetic," Ronnie suggested, his mind working quickly to fill in he blanks. "You thought there might be an attempt after a guilty verdict, so you wore a bullet-proof vest with packets of synthetic blood attached to convince a shooter he'd made a hit."

"That'll work," Matt said, looking around. "Wait, where's Kaden?"

Ronnie looked around the sidewalk and realized that the boy was no longer there. He was pretty sure he had been uninjured, but all thoughts of the star witness went out the window when Matt had been shot. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Perfect," Ronnie muttered.

Things were definitely not turning out as planned.

* * *

><p>Matt was glad that he kept a clean set of clothes at the office as he pulled his bloodied shirt away from his body. The places where two bullets had pierced his torso less than an hour before were completely healed. The lack of scarring was slightly disconcerting. Not so much because it wasn't the first time, but because he had been shot in front of his friends, leaving him with only two options: reveal his biggest secret or leave.<p>

Neither option was extremely enticing, but he wasn't ready to end this life, yet. Matt Devlin had only been around for a few years, and besides, he really didn't want to walk away from Ronnie and Alesha. That left coming clean.

Any discussion was going to have to wait, however. Natalie was out for blood after Ellis' men had gunned Matt down, and Jake was right behind her. Matt had to admit he was touched by the Crown Prosecutor's concern. He didn't get along with Thorne quite as well as he had James Steele—of course, he had also known Steele longer—but he had a feeling that would change.

The sound of approaching voices drew Matt out of his reverie, and he quickly shoved the bloody shirt to the bottom of the duffle and slipped on a clean tee shirt. As the voices neared, he recognized one as Natalie, and she was not happy about something.

"I'm only doing as I was told, Detective Chandler," said the new voice. "I have no say in the matter, and neither do you."

The end of the sentence was punctuated by the two entering the locker room. Natalie looked three shades shy of livid, and it didn't take a detective to tell that her fury was directed at the man who entered in front of her.

"DS Devlin, I'll be investigating the shooting that occurred in front of the courthouse, earlier."

"You mean, when _I_ got shot. Twice," Matt tried to keep the snarl from his voice, but he tended to get a little testy when he'd been shot.

"You're lucky you had the foresight to put on a bullet-proof vest before going to the courthouse."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Matt asked, getting tired of the run-around.

"Matt, this is Sam Casey. He's been put in charge of tracking down the shooter," Natalie said, still seething but trying to diffuse the situation.

"I was the one shot!" Matt protested. "I think I get the right to bring in my would-be murderer. At least let Ronnie hunt the bastard down."

"I'm sorry, Matt, but this came from above me."

Natalie seemed almost apologetic, now, and that served to sap some of the anger out of Matt. He glared at Casey, but logic managed to seep through to his brain. It made sense to have someone unrelated on the case to avoid any possibility of a mistrial born from a conflict of interests.

"Find him," he growled before grabbing the duffle and pushing past and out of the locker room.

He went up to the office to grab his things from his desk. If he wasn't going to be involved, he needed to get out of town for a few days. If he stayed around, he wouldn't be able to stay out of trouble. Besides, reviving tended to scramble his head, and he needed to regroup.

Ronnie saw him walk in and made a bee-line for him. His concern when Matt began gathering his things from his desk did not go unnoticed.

"I take it you met Casey," Ronnie supposed.

"It was pretty obvious he wanted me to stay out of his way, and the best way to do that is if I'm not here," Matt said, zipping the bag closed. "Look, I'm gonna head out of town for a bit. Don't worry, I'll keep my mobile."

"Matty," Ronnie began, glancing around and lowering his voice, "I'm not gonna try to understand what happened out there, earlier. To be honest, I'm not sure if I wanna know. But whatever it is, you're still my best friend. That will never change."

Matt sighed, and he knew then what he would do. He grabbed a scrap of paper off his desk and quickly scribbled down an address.

"Tomorrow night, seven o'clock, you and Alesha meet me there."

Ronnie took the paper and nodded, glad that whatever it was, Matt was willing to let them in.

Matt returned to his apartment and sat heavily on his couch. This day was so not going the way he had planned. He was supposed to be sharing cigars with Ronnie, celebrating the birth of his grandchild, not recovering from reviving and retreating to his place in the country.

His cat, Echo, walked up and rubbed against his leg, and he couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed some things didn't change. Running his hand down the Echo's back, he stood and went back to his bedroom and gathered what few things he would need. After making a call, he placed Echo in a carrier and proceeded to lock up his apartment. He wasn't sure how long he would be gone, but he did know he was coming back.

A three hour drive out of the city ended up at an estate in Surrey, Donwell Abbey. It was a palatial home for his standards, far grander than anything he would ordinarily choose for himself, but it was holy ground and a safe haven. He had acquired the home many years ago from a baronet who didn't want his gambling son to inherit.

"Welcome back, sir," greeted the butler.

Gerald Baker had spent the majority of his adult life working for Matt. Ninety-five percent of the time, Gerald and his wife, Rose—who had inherited the role of housekeeper from her mother—had the run of the house. Matt was only there for at most a couple weeks out of the year.

Matt sighed and handed Gerald his coat, "Good to be back. Listen, tell Rose I need to talk to her. Ronnie and Alesha are coming tomorrow."

"So, you are going to tell them," Gerald surmised.

"Yeah, kinda have to after getting shot in front of them, earlier."

Gerald nodded, knowing full well what kind of shock lay in store for his boss' friends.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm so glad people seem to be liking this story! I've gotten a ton of Story Alert and Favorite notifications on just the first chapter. Only got one review though? [\hint] This chapter is longer than the other two, mainly because the bulk of the story falls here. The other chapters are more like a prologue and epilogue. Also, if any words run together, forgive me. FF lost its mind when I uploaded the document and took all the spaces out of an entire paragraph. I think I caught all the jumbles, but a couple might have escaped me. - scgirl_317_

* * *

><p>Matt stood in the library, staring into the fireplace. He had been there for the past hour, trying to work out what to say. He had only had to do this a handful of times in his life, and he never could quite get the hang of it.<p>

It was seven o'clock on the dot when the doorbell rang. There was a groan as the large wooden front door protested at being opened. Matt could hear Gerald admit Ronnie and Alesha and lead them to the study. He smiled as he pictured the look on their faces as they walked through the foyer.

"Well, who'd you grease palms with to get to use this place, Matty?" Ronnie asked, awe showing plainly on his face.

"Actually, I own it," Matt said, turning to face them. "This, and about a hundred acres surrounding."

"What do you mean, you own it?" Alesha asked.

"I mean, my name is on the deed. I bought it back in"—here he had to pause and think—"1857, I think. That whole decade kinda blurred together."

"1857?" Ronnie asked. "You're telling us that you bought this place a hundred and fifty years ago?"

"Sounds about right, yeah," Matt nodded.

"What are you, some kind of vampire or something?" Alesha asked, trying to joke, but Matt could hear the tremor in her voice.

"No, not a vampire."

Matt paused as he chose his next words carefully, but he decided that the best approach was to just be direct.

"I am Immortal. I am over two hundred years old, and the only way I can die is if my head were removed."

They simply stared at him for a moment before Ronnie finally said, "You're not kidding, are you?"

"I was born Archie Kennedy in 1779 to a family of little standing and less money. We lived in Drury Lane, and I was one of seven children. The only hope I had of amounting to anything was to enlist in the military. When I was twelve, my father sent me to serve under whatever captain would have me. I spent the next few years learning everything anyone would teach me. I had few friends, save another officer I served with for six years. Horatio Hornblower, a man who would become as famous as Nelson himself, was dearer to me than anything else in this world.

"Our captain was senile, having lost all grasp on reality, and plagued with paranoia. It almost cost the entire ship when he ran us aground off of Santo Domingo. Horatio, myself, and the two senior lieutenants had the doctor relieve him of his command. We knew it meant court martial, but we all would have been killed, otherwise.

"En route to Kingston, our Spanish prisoners revolted, and I was shot. My last act as a naval officer was to claim responsibility for pushing the captain into the hold of the ship—what everyone believed to be the event that precipitated the captain's final decline into insanity—even though I know for a fact that no one pushed him. It was my only choice, to save Horatio from hanging. I died the next day. What followed was bizarre, to say the least."

_1802 – Kingston, Jamaica_

_It was dark when Archie felt consciousness creep back to him, accompanied by an odd buzzing sensation in the back of his mind. It was odd, because he could have sworn he was dead; he had felt himself slip away from his body, and yet, here he was. If he was in Heaven, it sounded just like Kingston had._

_He opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small room, furnished by only a chair, wash basin, and the cot he occupied. A small, high window let in limited moonlight, but he was able to make out shapes in the room well enough._

_A__ figure__ sat __in __the __chair, __and __Archie __thought__ he __recognized __him.__ He __appeared __to __be __Benjamin __Adams, __the__ physician__ who __had __tended __him __the __last __few __days __since __the _Renown_ had __landed __in __Kingston._

"_Dr. Adams?"_

"_Welcome back, Mr. Kennedy," he said calmly, leaning forward so that the moonlight illuminated his face._

"_I should be dead," Archie said, doing his best to keep his voice level. "Why am I not dead?"_

"_Because you're Immortal," Benjamin replied. "You can not die, unless your head is cut off."_

_He stood and walked over to the trunk by the wall, lifting the lid and removing some clothing which he handed to Archie._

"_Put these on. We need to leave soon."_

"_Where are we going?" Archie asked, slipping the shirt over his head._

"_New Orleans. Our ship sails at dawn."_

"_America?"_

"_Good a place as any for a fresh start," Benjamin shrugged. "I was headed there, anyway, before I encountered you. That reminds me, they speak mostly French there. How well do you speak French?"_

"_Not at all," Archie replied with a slightly bewildered look._

"_Hm, depending on the wind, it'll take about three days to get there. That's not a lot of time, but you should be able to at least pick up the basics."_

_Archie paused as the reality of his situation began to sink in._

"_I can never see any of my friends again, can I?"_

"_You died today," Benjamin told him plainly. "Mr. Hornblower was there when you died. Going back is impossible."_

_Benjamin could see how walking away from his friends hurt the young man, but he also saw how Archie realized the truth. He watched as Archie steeled himself to accept his fate. There was no other option._

"_If we're going to be together for a while, you can call me Archie."_

"_Very well, Archie, call me Ben."_

"I stayed with Ben for many years. He showed me the world, taught me how to survive. We parted ways in"—here Matt had to pause to think—"1823, I think. We stayed in touch, but went our own ways. I changed my name, took on a whole new life. I've been a painter, a barrister, and many other things over the years."

"You're two hundred and thirty-two years old?" Ronnie asked, the tale he'd been told slowly sinking in.

"Yes," Matt replied, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he waited for their reactions.

"There are others like you?" Ronnie added.

"I run across them, occasionally," Matt nodded. "I stay in touch with a few, like Ben, but I try to keep as low a profile as possible."

He had purposefully left out the more graphic details regarding duels to the death and the constant need to be on his guard. He would cross that bridge when and if he came to it, but he wanted to spare his friends the gruesome truth of what his life was like for as long as possible.

"You actually died, yesterday?" Alesha asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. Thankfully, the bullets didn't do too much extra damage, so I was able revive quickly."

Alesha sank into one of the armchairs placed around the fireplace, resting her head in her hands. This was too much. She would believe the bullet-proof vest story before she believed this. And yet, the evidence was plain before her. There was no way Matt could afford to even rent the abbey for one day—let alone stay there for a week—on his CID salary. Maybe if he saved every penny for ten years, but that was the point. The savings that Matt could have amassed over two hundred years was enough to make her head swim.

Then there was the fact that, less than thirty-six hours before, Matt had been dead. He had bled out after getting shot twice. She had felt his heart stop. But here he was, standing before her, as alive as she. To say she was unnerved by it was an understatement.

Ronnie, on the other hand, seemed to be coming to grips with this new information much faster.

"So, the next time we go to take down an armed suspect, I'll just stay behind you, then," he piped up.

"Hey, I do feel pain, you know," Matt protested with a smile, glad to know at least Ronnie was still with him. "Getting shot still hurts like hell."

"But you still took the bullets for Kaden," Alesha said quietly.

"Of course," Matt replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He could die, I can't. What kind of man would I be if I just stood by instead of saving him?"

Alesha smiled softly, "Not the man I fell in love with."

With those eight words, Matt felt the monstrous weight lifted from his shoulders. Ronnie smiled, looking back and forth between his two friends. Maybe now they would finally do something about the mutual attraction that had simmered under the surface for the past few years.

"Excuse me, sir, but dinner will be ready in ten minutes," interrupted the housekeeper.

"Thank you, Rose," Matt said.

"Will your friends be joining us, Mr. Kennedy?" she asked.

"I could eat," Ronnie offered quickly.

Matt laughed, then looked at Alesha, the hopeful look on his face clearly asking her to stay. Those blue eyes that she had never been able to say no to watched her closely, and she found herself agreeing.

"I just hope it's nothing fancy," she said.

"Chicken pie, ma'am," Rose informed her.

"Chicken pie?" Alesha asked incredulous.

"What'd you expect?" Matt asked, smiling. "Fillet mignon?"

"Kinda," she muttered.

Rose smiled and returned to the dining room. Once she was gone, Ronnie laughed.

"Well, nice to know none of this went to your head," he chuckled.

"Hey, you've seen my flat," Matt replied. "I'm fine with very little. The only reason I even bought this place is because it's a converted abbey. It made sense to have a home on Holy Ground so I would have a safe place to fall back to."

"Holy Ground?" Alesha asked.

Matt paused before answering, mentally censuring himself, "Holy Ground is the only place where my kind are completely safe. It's sort of a neutral ground where we don't have to worry about anything. The faith doesn't matter, just as long as someone considers it sacred."

"Safe from what?" Ronnie asked hesitantly.

"Ourselves."

That was all Matt said before heading out to the hallway.

"Guest bathroom's down the hall, just past the stairs, if you want to wash up before dinner. Rose will make sure you don't get lost."

Alesha and Ronnie traded a look, unsure of what had just happened. One minute, Matt was smiling and laughing; the next, he had closed himself off from them. Both had the thought that they had pushed him too far.

"He has far more demons than we ever imagined," Ronnie quietly surmised.

"Whatever it is, we can't let him slip away," Alesha told him. "We almost lost him, yesterday. I'm not about to waste a second chance to be with him. Whatever he's seen, whatever he's done, he has to know we still love him."

"Let's start with dinner," Ronnie smiled.

He offered Alesha his arm, and they headed down the hallway. Rose was standing outside the dining room waiting for them. Ronnie stopped and looked at her; she appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties.

"How long have you known Matt?" he asked.

"I've known Mr. Kennedy my entire life," she answered. "I was born in the abbey. My mother was his housekeeper before me. I inherited the position when she retired, twenty years ago. I honestly couldn't wish for a better boss."

Ronnie shook his head, still coming to terms with the fact that his apparently younger friend was old enough to be his ten-times-great-grandfather. It boggled the mind.

* * *

><p>It was ten o'clock when the friends finished dinner. Ronnie was set to drive back to London, but Matt had other ideas.<p>

"It's late, and I really don't want to have to worry about you falling asleep behind the wheel," he insisted. "You'll stay here for the night."

"We don't want to be an inconvenience," Alesha protested.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Matt snorted. "Once upon a time, the south wing was for guests and the north wing was for family. Now, staff lives in the south wing, while Gerald, Rose, and I are the only ones in the north. It'll take all of ten minutes to get a couple of rooms ready. Spend the night, have breakfast, then head back to town in the morning."

"Well, with an offer like that, how can we refuse?" Ronnie pointed out.

Matt gave them a megawatt smile, "Great! Head on back to the library, and I'll get you in a few minutes."

Matt dashed off to find Rose and prepare the rooms. Ronnie chuckled at Matt.

"That boy is downright schizophrenic," he muttered as they went back into the library. "So far, he's gone from anxious to happy to reticent to excited."

"He has a right to be," Alesha defended, taking a seat by the fireplace. "He's lived through over half a dozen wars. He's had to watch countless friends die in battle or from old age. He's died countless times, himself, most likely. And consider that witches were still burned at the stake into the nineteenth century. Immortality would definitely be enough to label someone a witch. He's had to be paranoid about who he could trust with this. To be honest, I'm surprised he's as sane as he is."

"Look at you, taking up the cause," Ronnie grinned. "You seem to have adjusted pretty well in the past few hours."

Alesha shrugged, "He's still Matt, just older. Whether his name is Matt Devlin or Archie Kennedy, he's still the same man we love."

Ronnie knew she was right. He was about to reply when the person in question returned to tell them the rooms were ready.

"Well, if you kids don't mind, I think I'm going to turn in," Ronnie said, wanting to give the two a chance to be alone. "Try not to stay up too late."

With another smile, he found Rose in the hallway and had her lead him to one of the prepared rooms, leaving Matt and Alesha alone in the library. Suddenly self-conscious, Matt crossed the room to sit on the loveseat next to Alesha. She had now said that she loved him twice, but he was still hesitant.

"I, uh, I was wondering," he stuttered, "did you mean it?"

Alesha looked at him, confusion apparent, "Mean what?"

"When you, uh, when you said you love me," he explained, wishing his voice wasn't so shaky.

Alesha looked straight in front of her, weighing her next words. She thought he sounded hopeful, but did she dare get her hopes up? Well, she _had_ already said it twice. Once more couldn't hurt.

"Yes, I meant it," she said.

Matt nodded, and a smile began spreading across his face, "Good. I meant it too."

With that, he turned her head to face him, and placed a light kiss on her lips. Or, at least, he had _intended_ for it to be a light kiss.

Alesha had other ideas.

It took very little encouragement for her to take over the kiss. Running a hand through his hair, she pulled him closer. Matt matched her actions, gently holding the base of her neck as he delved into her mouth. The taste of her was exquisite, and he had to suppress moan of delight.

He ran a hand down her side and came to rest on her hip. There, her shirt had ridden up slightly, and his fingers ventured to tease the exposed skin. The touch sent a shudder throughout her entire body, and she was not as shy about expressing her pleasure.

Matt pulled back and placed several feather-light kisses along her jaw and temple, then rested his forehead against hers. Their eyes met, reflecting equal measures desire and love at each other. Matt smiled softly, placing both hands against her face.

"I love you," he said for the first time since he died.

"I love you, too," Alesha replied, wearing a matching smile.

Without another word, Matt took her hands in his and stood. He led her slowly out of the library and up the grand staircase in the foyer. Turning down into the north wing, he led her down the large hallway. Ronnie could be faintly heard snoring in one of the rooms. Matt continued past to the room at the end.

With a flourish, Matt opened the door to reveal the master suite. The bedroom alone was almost as big as Matt's entire London flat. A fire blazed in a fireplace big enough to stand in, with a small sitting area surrounding. A king-size bed looked small in the large room. Off of the main room was a dressing room, and bathroom beyond that. It looked like some of the historically preserved country houses that Alesha had seen in magazines.

The overwhelmed feeling lasted briefly, as Matt had closed the door and was once again attacking her neck. Alesha responded by working on the buttons of his shirt. Clothes were removed as the two made their way towards the bed. No more words were spoken as they began to explore each other's boundaries.

When they were finally spent, Matt pulled the blanket up over them, holding Alesha close. She tucked her head under his chin and relaxed as he pulled her close. They quietly basked in the warm glow from both their activities and the fire, and they drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_And here's the last chapter. I hope everyone has enjoyed reading this. It was really interesting to write. Also, this chapter guest stars Methos. I couldn't help but throw him in here somewhere. Enjoy!_ - scgirl_317

* * *

><p>The smell of coffee tickled Matt's nose, slowly luring him out of sleep. He cracked an eye open, and made out the shape of a steaming pot and two cups on a side table a few feet from the bed. Opening his eyes further, he noticed that neither of them had moved much during the night.<p>

The room was still dark, the heavy velvet drapes blocking all but a sliver of light where they didn't quite meet. The fire had died hours before, making Matt glad that he had had central heating installed years ago; the abbey wasn't exactly known for retaining heat very well, and the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees.

Alesha shifted, trying to burrow even farther into Matt's side. He smiled and tightened his hold on her, placing a kiss on her hair. She sighed, drifting closer to consciousness.

"Morning, love," Matt smiled when her eyelids fluttered open.

She smiled and stretched, "Mmm, good morning."

"How about some coffee?" he asked

"Not just yet. I'm too comfortable," she replied, wrapping her arm around Matt's middle.

He laughed at that and leaned down to kiss her properly. Suddenly, Alesha was wide awake and pulling him closer. His hands had begun traveling down her body when a knock resounded on the large wooden door.

"Forgive me, Mr. Kennedy, but Mr. Brooks is wanting to know when you and Miss Philips will be up and about," Gerald interrupted.

"Tell him we'll be out shortly," Matt called back. He looked back at Alesha, "Well, looks like we have to get up, now."

"I would have just told him to bugger off," Alesha muttered.

"He would have just sent Rose, next time, and she won't bother knocking. Didn't think you'd like her just walking in."

"Okay, you have a point," she conceded, and then sniffed the air. "That coffee does smell good."

Matt chuckled, rolling over and out of the bed. He walked over to the side table and filled both cups. He handed one to Alesha, taking a sip of his own, then looked around the bed. Clothes were scattered across the floor leading a trail from the door to the bed. He saw Alesha's shirt crumpled by the bed, wrinkled beyond redemption.

"Looks like you might need a fresh shirt," he said.

"You saw to it that I'd need a fresh everything," she replied, smirking into her coffee cup.

Matt sat his cup back on the side table and crawled across the bed until he was almost on top of her.

"If I recall, you were begging for it," he said in a low voice, his mouth inches from her ear. His grin spread, and he pulled back to look her in the eyes. "You never got to see the bathroom last night. The shower is huge."

"What happened to Rose walking straight in?" Alesha asked, voice wavering slightly at the look in his eyes.

"Let her."

* * *

><p>Ronnie stood in the library, scanning some of the titles on the shelves after one of the best breakfasts he'd had in a long time. He had asked Gerald about Matt and Alesha, and the butler replied that they would be down shortly. That had been an hour ago.<p>

He looked up from the shelf of first edition Dickens books when he heard voices in the hallway. He looked out into the passage to see Matt and Alesha coming from the direction of the stairs. Matt was dressed casually in jeans and a knit shirt, while Alesha wore her slacks from yesterday and one of Matt's button-up shirts—something that caught Ronnie's eye.

"Long night?" he asked, interrupting them from their conversation.

Alesha blushed, but Matt simply raised an eyebrow, telling his partner that any discussion on the topic would get nowhere.

"I heard you sleeping soundly, last night," he countered.

"Hey, it's not my fault your beds are extremely comfortable," Ronnie replied, grin firmly in place.

"Good morning, Mr. Kennedy," Rose said, entering the room and prohibiting any further discussion. "I have breakfast waiting for you and Miss Philips. If you would like, I can bring it to you in here."

"That'd be great, Rose, thanks," Matt replied, and Rose turned and headed back to the kitchen.

"I have to admit, Matt, I never pictured you having servants," Alesha said, slight frown on her face.

"A hundred years ago, they were a necessity," he said. "Any more, this house is just as much theirs as it is mine. I'm only here a few weeks out of the year. Gerald and Rose run things the rest of the time. None of the staff has to pay rent or utilities, they are well paid, and the gardens, orchards, and livestock keep the kitchen fairly well stocked. I'm no slave master; I make sure my employees are well taken care of."

Ronnie started at how defensive Matt had become. Apparently, the Immortal realized it, and he looked appropriately apologetic.

"Sorry. My head's still a little scrambled. Tends to happen after I revive."

"So you left until you could get your head screwed back on straight," Ronnie assumed, and Matt nodded. "But in the past, that usually meant you had to leave behind the life you'd built, right? Leave behind your friends, loved ones. Either you had to leave, or they would. Here's the thing, Matt: we're not leaving, and you don't have to. Matt Devlin is my best friend, and you're still Matt Devlin."

Matt nodded, unable to speak through the tightness in his throat. Thankfully, he was spared from having to answer by a pounding on the front door. Matt went on alert when he felt the buzz of the newly arrived Immortal.

"Stay here," he directed the other two, and pulled his cutlass from it's hiding place in an umbrella stand by the library door.

He kept the blade low, but he softly approached the door. Despite his words, Alesha and Ronnie followed to the library entrance, watching intently as Matt regarded the front door as he did the approach to a police sting. Rose had come forward from the kitchen, but Matt waved her back out of the foyer. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his grip on the hilt and opened the front door.

"You bloody idiot!"

Even from their position behind him, Ronnie and Alesha could see Matt's surprise. This quickly turned to annoyance, and Matt lowered the sword and opened to door wider to allow the other Immortal in.

"I could say the same about you," he groused. "Doing what you just did is a good way to lose your head."

"Oh, and getting your face plastered all over every news outlet within a hundred miles for getting shot in front of the Old Bailey isn't?" the newcomer replied sarcastically.

Matt pushed the door closed and returned to the library, pushing the cutlass back into its scabbard and returning it to the umbrella stand.

"Ronnie Brooks, Alesha Philips, meet Adam Pierson, my teacher," he introduced, pouring another cup of coffee from the tray Rose had by now brought into the library.

"Will you be staying long, Mr. Pierson?" the housekeeper asked.

"As long as your boss doesn't cut my head off," Adam smirked, settling down on the sofa.

"You know good and well I can't kill you here, no matter how much I may want to," Matt groused, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed that he was happy to see his teacher.

"Another cup would be great, Rose, thanks," Adam said.

Rose smiled at the exchange. She had known Adam for most of her life, and she was quite familiar with the banter between him and Matt.

"I'll be right back."

Adam turned back to Matt, "I still go back to my original statement of you bloody idiot. What have I told you about being a human shield?"

"To do it as often as necessary?" Matt asked with a smile.

"You know the reason we move on after we die," Adam said, serious. "All it takes is the wrong person asking the wrong questions, and we have a repeat of the Salem witch trials. It's not just you at stake. It's all of us."

"Look, it's not like I planned on getting shot," Matt replied evenly. "I just reacted. Alesha and Ronnie were right there when I revived. I didn't have much of a choice but to tell them. But the shooting had already been called in, so I had to come up with some reason why I wasn't wounded. So far, no one's questioned my claim to have been wearing a bullet-proof vest."

"Leaving always has been hard for you," Adam said softer, after a pause. "I'm all for it if you can get a few more years out of Matt Devlin. Just keep your head down."

"I'll be careful," Matt reassured him.

Adam sighed, knowing that was the best he was going to get from Matt, and decided to change the subject. He turned to the other two who were still standing near the door, wearing matching looks of unease at having witnessed the exchange between student and teacher. He focused his gaze on attractive, dark-skinned beauty.

"So you're Alesha Philips," he mused.

"Yes," she replied self-consciously, taking the coffee that Matt offered her so she would have something to divert her attention.

Adam sensed her unease, and smiled, "Matt's descriptions did you no justice. You're far more beautiful than he managed to convey. That being the case, I can only imagine what injustices he did your spirit and intellect."

This time, Matt blushed as well, the tips of his ears turning as red as the chucks he wore. He had rambled on about Alesha on several occasions, but he was hoping that Adam wouldn't mention it. He should have known better.

Rose returned with another cup for Adam, making Matt and Alesha almost sigh with relief as the housekeeper unintentionally managed to cut some of the tension. Matt poured Adam a coffee, and Alesha snatched a piece of toast off the tray. She was famished, but didn't want to appear undignified. Matt had no such qualms and layered bacon and eggs between two pieces of toast, devouring the sandwich in only a couple bites. Adam hid a smirk behind his cup.

"So, have you given them the full tour, yet?" he asked.

"I've been a little, ah, preoccupied," Matt stammered, his eyes flicking quickly to Alesha.

"I can see that," Adam replied, biting back a laugh.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Matt asked, grimly.

"Oh, very! But it's not like you're making it very hard. You keep setting the targets out all nice and neat; I can't help but hit them."

"Okay, seriously, if you're just going to torment me, you can leave right now, thank you very much."

"He's just winding you up, Matty," Ronnie chuckled. "I have a feeling if Adam really wanted to cause trouble, he would."

"Very astute, Detective Brooks," Adam applauded. "I had a feeling I'd like you."

"You saved Matt's life, two hundred years ago, that makes you all right in my book."

Matt met Ronnie's gaze, and they traded a knowing look. Matt's revelation had changed things between them, but the essence remained the same. Ronnie knew there was still more that Matt had not told them, but it would come out eventually. There were things about his life that only experience could truly explain, though Ronnie could only guess at what that would entail.

Alesha's mind was taking a similar track. She knew that loving Matt was not going to be easy. She could see that there were things that haunted him, and that there were still things he had yet to tell her. But she did not know of any love worth having that _was_ easy. She was determined that she would not be driven away, not as long as she had life to live.

One thing was for sure. Life with Matt Devlin was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

_Fin._


End file.
